Just because
These make me smile, so I thought they might make you smile, too. Took 'em last week. My kid loves to wear hats.
How can one itty bitty thing make a noise that echoes so powerfully?
No parent forgets the first time they’re in the obstetrician’s office and they hear that distinctive “WSH-WSH-WSH-WSH” of their unborn baby’s heartbeat. It’s a life-changing moment, to say the least.
That memory came rushing back to me last week during an interview with a woman who lost her daughter a few years ago to cancer, as she described being with her — a 37-year-old mother to a 14-month-old baby girl — right to the end:
“I laid my head down on my daughter’s chest and ... they had her hooked up to those machines, ya know, and they told me when the numbers went down to zero, she was gone. I watched them go down, down, down. And I heard her heart stop. And that was the most horrible feeling. Because I remember the day I first heard her heart beat. And to hear it stop ... was just horrifying.”
I’d continue writing about this, but my heartstrings are being tugged out of my chest. Hurts. So. Bad.
You can read the column here.
Hippity Hoppity
I'm not one of those moms who gets all crazy with the Baby's First This and the Baby's First That. I don't know why, maybe I'm not all that sentimental. Nothing against parents who are. Anyway, I hadn't had huge expectations for the Baby's First Easter, but once again Kostyn's sweet disposition and excitement far exceeded my expectations.
I reveled in my role as Easter Bunny, "hiding" plastic eggs in obvious places around the living room and gently guiding Kostyn to them. And he LOVED finding them, shaking them, opening them and eating the few Cheerios of Puffs hidden inside. The kid was a riot.
Unfortunately, an extra-early, overstimulating morning led to KO conking out, fully dressed, a half-hour before church. So Chris and Kostyn ended up staying home and I brought my parents to the Easter service at our church. All in all, though, it was a great holiday.
Coloring eggs...
It took him no time at all to figure out how to open the plastic eggs to get the treasure inside!
He's looking refreshed after his morning nap. I, as usual, just look tired. But happy!
With Grammy and Pop-Pops...
Kostyn's first Easter basket. The red truck is for KO. The dark chocolate Easter bunny is for mommy.
I reveled in my role as Easter Bunny, "hiding" plastic eggs in obvious places around the living room and gently guiding Kostyn to them. And he LOVED finding them, shaking them, opening them and eating the few Cheerios of Puffs hidden inside. The kid was a riot.
Unfortunately, an extra-early, overstimulating morning led to KO conking out, fully dressed, a half-hour before church. So Chris and Kostyn ended up staying home and I brought my parents to the Easter service at our church. All in all, though, it was a great holiday.
Coloring eggs...
It took him no time at all to figure out how to open the plastic eggs to get the treasure inside!
He's looking refreshed after his morning nap. I, as usual, just look tired. But happy!
With Grammy and Pop-Pops...
Kostyn's first Easter basket. The red truck is for KO. The dark chocolate Easter bunny is for mommy.
Serenity Now
I haven't written anything in awhile, presumably because my sleep-deprived brain is having trouble rubbing two sentences together to come up with anything more than gibberish. My son, the angel that he is, is still having sleep issues. And when he has sleep issues, I have sleep issues. Two, three, four times a night we're up, sometimes for one or two hours at a time.
The good news is that the last two nights went swimmingly, which is why I'm awake enough at 10 pm to actually update this thing. I'm hoping this is a trend. It's amazing how much better one feels about life after having gotten six whole hours of sleep.
In the middle of the night when Kostyn refuses to sleep, I try EVERYTHING, including but not limited to: nursing; rocking; singing; pointedly not singing; holding his hand; wrestling him into a lying position in his crib; reading to him; putting him in bed with us; praying to God; bargaining with God; allowing him to cry (Kostyn, not God); allowing myself to cry; allowing him to play; pleading with Kostyn; pleading with God; and quiet meditation. And then I get angry. I don't take out my anger on him, of course, but there it is, hanging there in the middle of his darkened nursery over both our heads -- my anger. I'm angry that I've been up for however long, angry that he won't lie down, angry that he's perfectly happy until I put him in his crib. Angry at all the things on my mental 'to do' list for the next day that I know I'll have trouble accomplishing in my exhausted haze.
And as that anger hangs there, I feel like a crummy mom. He is, after all, just a baby. It's not his fault that he isn't sleepy. It isn't his fault that he wants his mommy and gets upset or scared when he senses my displeasure or distance. But I can't seem to help those feelings of anger. A couple times, I've had to just leave the room for a few minutes.
And with that silent anger, for me, came isolation because I felt like I must be the worst mother in the world, the only one who can't seem to muster the patience to soothe their baby to sleep. That fear and shame has been stinging me for quite awhile. Until last week, when I found myself wandering down to the nursery at our church during the Good Friday service, holding a happy but talkative Kostyn who needed to escape the silent confines of the sanctuary. The lights were off but the door was open, so we ventured inside and looked at all the colorful wall hangings, cubbies, games, songs and toys around the room. It was the perfect little classroom for what appeared to be the perfect tiny students, all with trendy names like Ella and Cody marking personalized artwork bins and coat hooks.
And then I saw it, taped over the changing table area, at eye level just for the teachers: The Serenity Prayer. "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference." It made me feel instantly better -- not the words, as I've read them countless times before. But the fact that someone felt the need to hang it there, right at a place where tired, frustrated adults who are perhaps wrestling whiny toddlers with dirty diapers can pause and scan the famous prayer. It was the only thing in the room placed there for people who are not 3 feet tall and with varying abilities to dress themselves.
I sighed when I saw it, inwardly and outwardly. I know other parents and caretakers struggle and get frustrated, but for some reason seeing it there so plainly made it hit home. I no longer felt alone. And that night with Kostyn went much better. Don't get me wrong -- I still had to enter his room four times from midnight to 6:30 a.m. But my anger didn't come with me, and neither did my shame.
Movin' and Talkin'
I haven't posted any video clips in awhile of the Little Man. This first one is of him crawling -- he has since gotten much faster, but this is a cute, short one so it wins:
And this one, of him babbling a bit, is of an afternoon spent with Chris and our friends Ian and Isaac (the wives were at a baby shower). The boys were hit on by several women. (The husbands may have been hit on, too...)
And this one, of him babbling a bit, is of an afternoon spent with Chris and our friends Ian and Isaac (the wives were at a baby shower). The boys were hit on by several women. (The husbands may have been hit on, too...)
Tag
My blog has been tagged by my friend Tara's. I usually play along with these email editions, so here goes:
Ten years ago, I was -
• Living in Florida, which is hotter than the face of the sun five months of the year, and writing messages-on-hold for a living. (It’s as mind-numbing as it sounds.) I also started writing a weekly “how to” column in the local newspaper on a newfangled thing sweeping the nation called “the Internet.” Oh, and then there was the whole “Chris, you have cancer” thing. That diagnosis came 10 years ago, too. Crazy.
Five things on tomorrow’s To Do List -
• Sweep the floor, so that I can stop picking cat and dog hair off my son’s clothes.
• Spend at least 35 minutes on the elliptical machine trying to recall what it felt like to be in shape.
• Will myself to not open either of the two half-gallons of ice cream I bought today.
• Write my column. On about how I need to get in shape.
What I’d do if I suddenly became a billionaire -
• Pay off my family’s debt, quit my job, travel the world, and every other ‘instant billionaire’ cliche
• Sock away plenty of cash for Kostyn’s (and Cora’s and Zayvius’ and Tesher’s) education
• I’d love to start a foundation to assist orphans in some way, but I can’t think of a decent way to help fill the gaping void left by a parent’s absence. I guess with a billion dollars, I could hire a think tank to come up with a good idea for me.
Three of my bad habits -
• I spend too much time on the computer.
• I procrastinate. Over everything.
• I’ll tell you the third thing later.
Jobs I’ve had -
(this isn’t all-inclusive, but it hits the highlights)
• waitress
• babysitter
• language lab attendant
• copy editor
• messages-on-hold writer
• technical writer
• columnist
• new media marketing associate
• features editor
• freelance writer/editor
• mom (highest paying and highest stress job so far)
5 things people don’t know about me -
1. I’ve never sent a birthday card on time. Ever. (OK, several of you already know this about me...)
2. One of the most entertaining concerts I ever went to was Huey Lewis and The News. I liked it so much that I went again when they returned to SPAC the following year.
3. I have a hard time watching conflict of any kind between people on fictional TV programs, even comedies. Sometimes I get so uncomfortable about it that I leave the room or distract myself with a magazine or something. BUT I have no trouble at all watching conflict between people on a reality show. So... I guess real drama doesn’t bother me, but fake drama does. Go figure.
4. I don’t believe in dishwashers.
5. I wish I was an athlete.
There. Now I tag two new blogs by two of the coolest people I know -- Sheila and Marti. You're it.
Ten years ago, I was -
• Living in Florida, which is hotter than the face of the sun five months of the year, and writing messages-on-hold for a living. (It’s as mind-numbing as it sounds.) I also started writing a weekly “how to” column in the local newspaper on a newfangled thing sweeping the nation called “the Internet.” Oh, and then there was the whole “Chris, you have cancer” thing. That diagnosis came 10 years ago, too. Crazy.
Five things on tomorrow’s To Do List -
• Sweep the floor, so that I can stop picking cat and dog hair off my son’s clothes.
• Spend at least 35 minutes on the elliptical machine trying to recall what it felt like to be in shape.
• Will myself to not open either of the two half-gallons of ice cream I bought today.
• Write my column. On about how I need to get in shape.
What I’d do if I suddenly became a billionaire -
• Pay off my family’s debt, quit my job, travel the world, and every other ‘instant billionaire’ cliche
• Sock away plenty of cash for Kostyn’s (and Cora’s and Zayvius’ and Tesher’s) education
• I’d love to start a foundation to assist orphans in some way, but I can’t think of a decent way to help fill the gaping void left by a parent’s absence. I guess with a billion dollars, I could hire a think tank to come up with a good idea for me.
Three of my bad habits -
• I spend too much time on the computer.
• I procrastinate. Over everything.
• I’ll tell you the third thing later.
Jobs I’ve had -
(this isn’t all-inclusive, but it hits the highlights)
• waitress
• babysitter
• language lab attendant
• copy editor
• messages-on-hold writer
• technical writer
• columnist
• new media marketing associate
• features editor
• freelance writer/editor
• mom (highest paying and highest stress job so far)
5 things people don’t know about me -
1. I’ve never sent a birthday card on time. Ever. (OK, several of you already know this about me...)
2. One of the most entertaining concerts I ever went to was Huey Lewis and The News. I liked it so much that I went again when they returned to SPAC the following year.
3. I have a hard time watching conflict of any kind between people on fictional TV programs, even comedies. Sometimes I get so uncomfortable about it that I leave the room or distract myself with a magazine or something. BUT I have no trouble at all watching conflict between people on a reality show. So... I guess real drama doesn’t bother me, but fake drama does. Go figure.
4. I don’t believe in dishwashers.
5. I wish I was an athlete.
There. Now I tag two new blogs by two of the coolest people I know -- Sheila and Marti. You're it.
Ode to Avi
There was a boy in my first grade class who had a pretty big crush on me. His name was Avi.
I did not return his affections.
Poor, sweet Avi. I don't remember much about him, just that he was short with dark hair and bright eyes and this pathetic smile that gave him away every time he was near me. (Lest you think I'm full of myself for relaying this story, rest assured that Avi ended up being the only boy to have a crush on me for, like, the next 10 years.) I remember that I wasn't all that kind to him, given the fact that I was a shy girl who shunned the limelight and hated how he made me stand out. "Avi likes you" my little friend said one day, and instead of being flattered I was mortified.
But Avi was undeterred by my disinterest. He invited me to his birthday party and my mother made me go, though I protested mightily. I was terrified that my acceptance of his invitation would be seen as a sign that I had feelings for him. (No matter that my entire class was probably invited to the party as well.)
Avi never seemed to waver in his love for me. Time after time he'd smile gawkily (yeah, it's a word, I looked it up) at me and I would muster my best bored look and turn away. He must have had an unending supply of optimism, or a very bad memory. Either way, eventually the school year ended and, with it, his attempts to woo me.
Years later I was in an enrichment course at the local college and one of my fellow students was Avi's older brother. When I said my name as introduction to the rest of the class, Avi's bro gave me a cold hard stare and said "I know who you are." It wasn't until that moment that I thought my unfeeling attitude toward little Avi may have crushed him. He never seemed hurt. But that day, I felt ashamed.
Anyway, I hadn't thought of Avi or that sappy "Groundhog Day" smile until my son started crawling a couple weeks ago. Because he is now able to properly show the cat his affections by chasing her all over the house. He is utterly enamored with her, and she wants nothing to do with him.
It's sad, really. Whenever Laney comes into view, the rest of Kostyn's world disappears. His entire face lights up and he flashes this over-the-top happy smile — first at the cat, then at me, then back at the cat. His attention is stolen from whatever toy, parent or spoonful of food had him occupied just moments before. He immediately sets off in the cat's direction, gleeful, giggling, sure of himself. It's as if he doesn't remember the 1,000 times before this one, when he did the same thing, only to be greeted with a bored look and a hasty retreat. She never gives him even a patronizing swish of her tail.
And every time she dodges him without a second glance, and he's left sitting in the middle of the now-empty hallway/doorway/kitchen, rejected, his smile slowly fading, I feel a little bad for him.
And I feel a little bad for Avi, too.
I did not return his affections.
Poor, sweet Avi. I don't remember much about him, just that he was short with dark hair and bright eyes and this pathetic smile that gave him away every time he was near me. (Lest you think I'm full of myself for relaying this story, rest assured that Avi ended up being the only boy to have a crush on me for, like, the next 10 years.) I remember that I wasn't all that kind to him, given the fact that I was a shy girl who shunned the limelight and hated how he made me stand out. "Avi likes you" my little friend said one day, and instead of being flattered I was mortified.
But Avi was undeterred by my disinterest. He invited me to his birthday party and my mother made me go, though I protested mightily. I was terrified that my acceptance of his invitation would be seen as a sign that I had feelings for him. (No matter that my entire class was probably invited to the party as well.)
Avi never seemed to waver in his love for me. Time after time he'd smile gawkily (yeah, it's a word, I looked it up) at me and I would muster my best bored look and turn away. He must have had an unending supply of optimism, or a very bad memory. Either way, eventually the school year ended and, with it, his attempts to woo me.
Years later I was in an enrichment course at the local college and one of my fellow students was Avi's older brother. When I said my name as introduction to the rest of the class, Avi's bro gave me a cold hard stare and said "I know who you are." It wasn't until that moment that I thought my unfeeling attitude toward little Avi may have crushed him. He never seemed hurt. But that day, I felt ashamed.
Anyway, I hadn't thought of Avi or that sappy "Groundhog Day" smile until my son started crawling a couple weeks ago. Because he is now able to properly show the cat his affections by chasing her all over the house. He is utterly enamored with her, and she wants nothing to do with him.
It's sad, really. Whenever Laney comes into view, the rest of Kostyn's world disappears. His entire face lights up and he flashes this over-the-top happy smile — first at the cat, then at me, then back at the cat. His attention is stolen from whatever toy, parent or spoonful of food had him occupied just moments before. He immediately sets off in the cat's direction, gleeful, giggling, sure of himself. It's as if he doesn't remember the 1,000 times before this one, when he did the same thing, only to be greeted with a bored look and a hasty retreat. She never gives him even a patronizing swish of her tail.
And every time she dodges him without a second glance, and he's left sitting in the middle of the now-empty hallway/doorway/kitchen, rejected, his smile slowly fading, I feel a little bad for him.
And I feel a little bad for Avi, too.
More family
Chris' sister Lisa, her husband, Bobby, and their two youngest, Emily and Timmy, stopped by a couple weekends ago on their way back to New York from a Florida vacation. It was their first time meeting Kostyn and they definitely filled up on smiles and hugs. They also got to catch his first attempts at crawling! Both sets of grandparents are no doubt jealous, as they both were with Kostyn in recent weeks and coaxed and coaxed him to crawl, to no avail.
Here's Aunt Lisa and a very smiley Kostyn
Bobby is a Georgia boy who's been held captive in the frigid north for way longer than he cares to think about. Every visit to S.C. has him scheming to move here. Maybe someday...
Here's Aunt Lisa and a very smiley Kostyn
Bobby is a Georgia boy who's been held captive in the frigid north for way longer than he cares to think about. Every visit to S.C. has him scheming to move here. Maybe someday...
Note to Self
I went to a baby shower today - the first one I've been to since having one of my own. It was a whole different experience. Instead of buying the cutest stuffed animal and the coolest toy I could find - which is what I would have done pre-baby - I packed a gift basket with boring essentials like cloth diapers (they make the best burp cloths) and swaddling blankets. Not the most exciting gift she opened, but it didn't matter to me because I knew she would use every single item in there.
Her mother had created an "advice" journal for all of us to sign, which we had been warned about beforehand. On the drive there I thought about what advice I could give her, and lots of little things crossed my mind.
Always cover his little boyhood with a washcloth or clean diaper AS SOON AS you remove the dirty one.
Use a spritz of stain remover spray on bibs and onesies before the stain dries.
Keep a small bag in your car with the bare essentials -- one or two diapers, some wipes, a pacifier.
Leave the dirty dishes in the sink and sleep when he sleeps.
All of those words of wisdom had been passed on to me when I became a mom. And I had a feeling others would impart the same advice to her. So I wrote the one thing nobody had spelled out for me...the part about being a new mom we all have to learn the hard way, over and over. Essentially, I wrote:
Try to live in the moment, but also to Give In to the moment. Know that there will be days (nights, moments) when you will feel frustrated, overwhelmed, exhausted, or filled with doubt. In those moments, take a deep breath and give in ... to your feelings, and to the situation. It takes strength to relinquish control — of your day, your schedule, your sleep time, your expectations — so feel the power that comes with giving in. And know that at the end of the day, your mere presence and love are the best things you can give him.
I decided to write that here tonight so I can keep rereading it, too.
Her mother had created an "advice" journal for all of us to sign, which we had been warned about beforehand. On the drive there I thought about what advice I could give her, and lots of little things crossed my mind.
Always cover his little boyhood with a washcloth or clean diaper AS SOON AS you remove the dirty one.
Use a spritz of stain remover spray on bibs and onesies before the stain dries.
Keep a small bag in your car with the bare essentials -- one or two diapers, some wipes, a pacifier.
Leave the dirty dishes in the sink and sleep when he sleeps.
All of those words of wisdom had been passed on to me when I became a mom. And I had a feeling others would impart the same advice to her. So I wrote the one thing nobody had spelled out for me...the part about being a new mom we all have to learn the hard way, over and over. Essentially, I wrote:
Try to live in the moment, but also to Give In to the moment. Know that there will be days (nights, moments) when you will feel frustrated, overwhelmed, exhausted, or filled with doubt. In those moments, take a deep breath and give in ... to your feelings, and to the situation. It takes strength to relinquish control — of your day, your schedule, your sleep time, your expectations — so feel the power that comes with giving in. And know that at the end of the day, your mere presence and love are the best things you can give him.
I decided to write that here tonight so I can keep rereading it, too.
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